


The Storm is Raging Against Us Now

by MouseBouse



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Experimental Style, Gen, I literally have no idea, I think this qualifies as that, M/M, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:59:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11284212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MouseBouse/pseuds/MouseBouse
Summary: His phone ringing. A hand finding its way into the pocket, pulling it out, thumb swiping to answer.“Darling,” heard from the other side. A smile spreading on his face. A confirmation of his takeout order.The boots hitting the ground quicker now, the smell of sulfur stronger.(A quick experimental ficlet.)





	The Storm is Raging Against Us Now

**Author's Note:**

> I opened the window earlier and wondered how it can still be so hot when it's 8pm.  
> A summer storm started three minutes later.
> 
> [Title from Walking the Wire by Imagine Dragons.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nv9br7P7g0)
> 
> My Tumblr is [here.](https://mousebouse.tumblr.com)

Sunlight burning his arms as he walks down the street.

The boiling concrete warming the soles of his feet even through the combat boots. Maybe those hadn't been the best idea.

The stele in his pocket not forgotten, but useless right now. (He should ask Clary if she has an air-conditioning rune.)

His phone ringing. A hand finding its way into the pocket, pulling it out, thumb swiping to answer.

“Darling,” heard from the other side. A smile spreading on his face. A confirmation of his takeout order. 

The boots hitting the ground quicker now, the smell of sulfur stronger. 

His bow materializing as his fingers touch the thigh holster. A wave of hand toward his back, a quiver appearing.

An alley to the left. A yellow cab parked next to a building. Driver’s door open, no one in sight. 

A muffled scream in the distance. 

Running. Hand grabbing an arrow. The other raising the bow.

A dark form behind a dumpster. Another on the fire escape above it. 

A quick inhale, pull the string. A long exhale, release it. One down.

A swift change of weapon. Seraph blade lighting up. A precise strike. An infernal screech. 

Mission accomplished. Casualties, one. A message to Luke, a mundane murdered by demons.

Another message, on my way.

 

A change in weather. 

A flash in the distance. Sudden gusts of wind. Dark clouds rolling in. Thunder.

A challenge in his eyes as he looks up at the sky. Rain might be fast, but he is faster.

The stele no longer unnecessary. A Speed rune burning on his forearm. 

Feet moving so fast they’re barely touching the ground. 

The first droplet meets his forehead. 

The second hits his cheek.

Close, now. 

The brick building rising above the ones surrounding it. A beacon that calls to him. Home. Safe. Love.

Lights on in the penthouse. 

Another flash, this one nearby. 

He jumps on the fire escape. A quick climb. 

Thunder.

A knock on the balcony door. A wisp of blue pulling it open. 

Music playing. A soft blues record. 

Behind him, the door closes. 

Sound of rain hitting the windows.

“Darling,” once again. “You barely escaped the downpour.”

A bright flash. Closer than any before.

Lights off in the penthouse.

Thunder.

A snap of fingers.

Candles lighting up around the room.

A chuckle in his throat.

 

Later.

On the table, empty Jade Wolf cartons. Half-full wine glasses.

A warm chest behind him. 

Soft fingers trailing along his arm. Soundless rune tingling underneath them.

A book in his hands. A love potion recipe, for never-ending affection. Similar to theirs, he thinks.

“Unicorn blood,” a murmur in his ear. Then, a question. “Scotland tomorrow?”

A frown.

An explanation. 

“Their national animal. They run free there. We might find a donor.”

A nod, promptly followed by a yawn.

A kiss beneath his jaw.

“Bed?”

He moves to stand.

The hand on his arm stops him.

Relaxing again, he closes his eyes. 

A snap. 

Soft sheets beneath him.

Softer hair touching his face.

The softest voice.

“Good night, Alexander.”

A contented hum.

“Good night, Magnus.”

A flash.

Thunder.


End file.
